


Five Times Chris Wore Zach's Clothes (and One Time Zach Wore Chris's)

by Willowe (orphan_account)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Sharing Clothes, a lot of unashamed schmoop, or more accurately stealing clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2099352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Willowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going to raid your house and find every article of clothing you’ve stolen from me,” Zach promises. “Starting with those damned sweatpants I still don’t have back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Chris Wore Zach's Clothes (and One Time Zach Wore Chris's)

**Author's Note:**

> My first Pinto fic, and surprisingly it's not smut. I hope I've done these, and this awesome fandom, justice.
> 
> Based loosely off of this prompt from the Pinto kink meme: Chris wearing Zach's shirts and sweaters and hoodies because they're the softest things he's ever worn and they smell like Zach, Zach wearing Chris' shoes to piss him off, both of them trading sweatpants and basketball shorts because they exercise together anyway. it doesn't have to be a kink, it can just be a thing they do, but it could also be maybe the first time one of them steals the other's clothes and the other gets really possessive and awesome sex ensues, either one would be rad :)

**1\. Sweatpants, After Drinking**

They end up back at Zach’s place because it’s the closest. Chris had the misfortune of a too-drunk bar patron throwing up next to him, the vomit splashing up to cover the bottoms of his jeans, and the plan is to find him a new pair of pants and rejoin the others as soon as they can. But once they reach the house they both realize that they’re more than a little tipsy to really want to leave again. Besides, if they want to keep drinking Zach has enough alcohol in his fridge to get them thoroughly drunk in the comfort of his own home without having to try to make their way back to the bar. So Chris digs out his phone and texts a largely nonsensical message to Karl while Zach goes digging through his dresser trying to find a clean pair of sweats.

“Here, put these on,” Zach says, throwing the pants at Chris’s head. “And throw your jeans in the washer, I don’t want you leaving them on my floor for the vomit to soak into the carpet.”

“As if I would,” Chris says, faking offense. Or not faking, Zach actually isn’t that sure, but he doesn’t seem too pissed off as he stands up and starts fumbling with the button on his fly.

Zach rolls his eyes and leaves Chris to finish stripping in his living room, instead opting to stumble into the kitchen and start pulling out bottles of booze from his fridge. He has two bottles of beer he bought from a microbrewery a few weeks back, and a six pack of some disgusting looking pale beer that John left here god only knows how long ago. He’s just debating if this night is worth pulling out his good liquor- or really, wondering if he even has any good liquor left after the number of times they’ve been drinking this month- when he hears a loud thump from the living room and muffled curses from Chris.

He takes a minute to take in what exactly is going on in the living room, Chris sitting on the floor struggling to get into the sweatpants and no sign of the vomit-covered jeans. “Did you run your jeans back to the laundry room before you put the sweatpants on?” he asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

Chris nods, looking more than a little pathetic at the moment. “Couldn’t figure out how to work your dumb hipster dryer though.”

“It’s eco-friendly, not exactly brain surgery,” Zach says. “Did you fall while trying to get dressed?”

“What gave you that idea?” Chris grumbles. His face is a thousand different shades of red, and Zach is so tempted to find his phone and send a picture of this moment to everyone they work with.

“Do you need help?” Zach asks instead, because he may be a bit of an asshole but he’s not _that_ much of an asshole. Not anymore. Not to Chris, at least.

“Oh my god, could this night get any worse,” Chris moans, still attempting to pull up the sweatpants. He doesn’t seem to realize that his foot is stuck in the end of one of them, or if he realizes he doesn’t care. Zach has visions of one stretched-out sweatpant leg dancing in his head, and he knows something has to be done.

“Okay, that’s it. C’mon, up,” he says, reaching down to tug Chris to his feet. “I’m sure you’re fully capable of dressing yourself but you are a little more drunk than I thought you were so just work with me here, okay? Lift your left leg.”

Chris mutters something under his breath that Zach doesn’t quite catch, but he manages to balance shakily- and leaning heavily on Zach for support- on first one leg, then the other so Zach can actually get his feet through the pant legs. “I can take it from here,” Chris says, tugging up the sweatpants himself before flopping down onto the couch. “And now that that’s over with, do you have anything worth drinking in your house?”

In the end, Zach breaks out the good liquor only because it gets them drunk quicker. Chris ends up nearly passing out on the couch, and Zach almost drops him while attempting to help him walk back to the guestroom before passing out himself. He wakes up later than he intended the next morning, but thankfully without the hangover he probably deserved, and no sign of Chris in the house.

He eventually finds a note stuffed in the top of the empty vodka bottle on his kitchen counter. _You forgot to start the washing machine, so I’m stealing your sweatpants. –cp_

Zach takes a moment to imagine Chris leaving the house in sweatpants and his undershirt, button down on but left open, shoes probably untied because Pine is an absolute Neanderthal when he’s hungover and doesn’t get enough sleep. He’s still chuckling to himself as he goes to start the washer, knowing full well that he’s probably never going to see those sweatpants again.

Bastard.

 

**2\. T-Shirt, On Set**

“Okay, cut! Now that was fine, but how about a little more…”

Zach isn’t even really listening to J.J.’s scene directions anymore. They’ve filmed this same two minutes of dialogue four times by now and no one has any idea what exactly J.J. is looking for from them- including, it seems, J.J. himself. He’s exhausted, Zoe is exhausted, and when J.J. tells them to take ten he bolts from the set as quickly as possible before he can change his mind.

Ten minutes isn’t enough time to make it back to his trailer but he does make it out of the soundstage, breathing a sigh of relief when the door closes behind him. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to let go of some of the stress he’s been carrying around all day.

“J.J. still going crazy in there?”

He should’ve known that Chris would find him. “He told us to, and I’m quoting here, ‘make it sexy, but Vulcan sexy’,” Zach says, keeping his eyes closed for the time being. “Please tell me you know what he’s talking about.”

“Beats me,” Chris says. Zach feels him brush against his arm as he settles against the wall as well. “Maybe he’s talking about that weird Vulcan hand sex thing. Have you tried fondling Zoe’s fingers yet?”

Zach can’t help but laugh at that. “Can you imagine his reaction if I tried to do that, though?” He says, finally opening his eyes to look at Chris. He blinks once and frowns, saying, “Hey wait a second, that’s my shirt.”

Chris looks down at the t-shirt he’s wearing, a striped one that Zach definitely recognizes as his own because he’s actually been looking for it for a few weeks now. “No it isn’t,” Chris says. “Can’t be.”

“That is most definitely my shirt, Pine,” Zach says. “Where did you even find it? And why are you wearing it now?”

“Well unlike some of us, my scenes are done for the day,” Chris says. “I’m just sticking around until Simon and Karl are done because they wanted to check out that new pub that just opened and I invited myself along.”

Zach rolls his eyes. Typical Chris.

“As for the shirt,” Chris continues as if he didn’t see the eye-roll. “I’ll have you know I found it in my trailer a week ago, so who knows how long it’s actually been living there. It just happened to be the only clean thing in my trailer today, after I spilled that coffee on myself this morning.”

“Sometimes I find it almost miraculous that you pass as a functioning human being,” Zach commented, remembering the look on Chris’s face when he tripped over the first step to his trailer and spilled his coffee down the front of his shirt. “And for the record, I’m not sure that shirt actually is clean. Not if it’s been in the dark corners of your trailer for a couple of weeks.”

Chris sniffs the sleeve of the shirt and shrugs. “Smells fine to me.” He sticks his arm in Zach’s face and asks, “What do you think?”

Zach inhales automatically, immediately overwhelmed by the slightly dusty smell of a shirt that’s been left out unwashed for too long, and underneath that the faintest scent of the products he himself uses. “Still smells like me,” Zach finally says, shoving Chris’s arm away. “Told you it wasn’t clean.”

Chris shrugs. “Whatever, man. Like I said, it smells fine to me.”

Zach is trying not to read too much into how something can smell like him and still not bother Chris when the other man says, “Hey, shouldn’t you be back on set by now?”

Zach curses because knowing his luck he’s probably already late and throws open the door to the sound stage. “Give me back the shirt, and the sweatpants!” he yells over his shoulder as he hurries inside.

Later, after that awful scene is finally a wrap and he’s done for the day, he checks his phone and sees a single text from Chris. _What sweatpants?_

Zach is, quite possibly, going to murder him.  

 

**3\. Shoes, At the Café**

Somehow, they end up crashing at Chris’s place this time. There’s more of them this time and Zoe charms her way into getting the guest bed, Anton crashing on the couch before anyone can think to challenge him, and Zach really should go back to his own place and sleep in his own bed but he’s too tired and just a bit too drunk to really want to leave right now. So somehow, after everyone who’s making it home that night leaves and everyone else has long since fallen asleep, Zach finds himself lying sideways across Chris’s bed passing drunken judgment on the small collection of books on the nightstand.

The Hemingway is to be expected, although Zach rolls his eyes to see it. The new Neil Gaiman book gets an eyebrow raised at the sight of it- not an awful choice, just not one Zach would have expected from Chris- and there are more than a few books that Zach has never even heard of which makes him think they’re probably prize-winning works of literary fiction that only former English majors would enjoy. He pulls the top one off the stack, squints to read the title- _The Anthropology of Turquoise_ and yeah, it’s a Pulitzer finalist- and is just reading the summary on the back when Chris walks in.

“Everything okay down there?” Chris asks, looking down at Zach who’s sprawled out on his back, head hanging over the edge of the bed and book in his face.

“Just peachy,” Zach says. He’s sobering up fairly quickly now, could probably make it home if he wanted except he doesn’t really want to. He waves the book in his hand in Chris’s general direction. “Is this actually any good, or do you just have to read a certain number of pretentious books per year in order to keep your English degree?”

“Oh fuck you,” Chris says with a laugh, taking the book from Zach’s hands and setting it back on top of the stack. “I’ll have you know it’s actually not half-bad and nowhere near as pretentious as you think it is. And if you can actually pronounce _pretentious_ right now you are nowhere near drunk enough to be sprawled across my bed like that so move.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re all that drunk anymore either,” Zach points out, but he obligingly rolls over and sits up. He also bites back the snarky comment about other ways he could be sprawled across Chris’s bed, only because he’s still tipsy enough that knowing his luck he’d do something monumentally stupid and regret it in the morning if they tried having that conversation.

Chris, however, doesn’t seem to be inclined to avoid innuendo-filled topics. “I’m drunk enough to tolerate you in my bed at all, a fact which you really should be more grateful about.”

“Your grammar is atrocious, Pine,” Zach says and, before he can really think things through, he adds, “And fuck you, I’m a pleasure to sleep with.”

Chris laughs, loud enough that Zach has to quickly shush him for fear that he’ll wake up Anton or Zoe with his cackling. “Damn, I’m not gonna forget you said that,” he says, still chuckling slightly as he strips down to his boxers and climbs into the bed. “I’m gonna text you that exact quote every day. Hell, I’m going to text it to everyone every day.”

“Fuck you,” Zach says again as he slides under the covers as well. “I don’t know why I tolerate you at all.”

“Because I let you sleep in my bed when you’re too lazy to find a way home,” Chris replies around a yawn. “Now shut up and go to sleep before I kick you out.”

The following morning Zach yet again wakes up to find the house empty around him. Zoe and Anton are both already gone, and for some reason Chris is out of the house as well with no note this time to tell Zach where he is. He figures his friend got some early call from his agent and had to head out, and he has enough things to do today that he pulls on the jeans he wore the day before and goes looking for his shoes.

Except, he can’t find them. Chris’s are still sitting by the door where he toed them off last night and Zach’s should be sitting right next to them but they aren’t. He’s still searching the living room, thinking maybe Anton moved them when he left or something, when his cellphone goes off.

“Hey! I was hoping you’d be awake. Listen I’m out grabbing coffees and breakfast, do you know what Zoe and Anton want?” Chris asks, not even giving Zach a chance to say hello.

“They’re both gone already,” Zach says, craning his neck to look behind the entertainment center. “And hey, do you know where my shoes are? I can’t fucking find them anywhere.”

There’s a momentary pause before Chris says. “Oh. I think I’m wearing them.”

Zach’s head hits the wall with a satisfying _thunk_. “Of course you have them. Heaven forbid you put your own shoes on before leaving the house.”

“They all looked the same when I left this morning,” Chris says. “And anyway, I’ll be back in like half an hour. Tops. With coffee and scones.”

“I’m going to raid your house and find every article of clothing you’ve stolen from me,” Zach promises. “Starting with those damned sweatpants I still don’t have back.”

Chris just laughs and hangs up on him.

Zach gets about halfway through digging through Chris’s closet for his clothes before he realizes he never told Chris what to pick up for him. He sends off a quick text, _Vanilla coffee and cranberry scone for me, thanks for asking_.

His phone chimes a moment later and the text just reads, _duh._

Zach wonders if he should be more concerned that Chris knows his breakfast order already, or that there’s a part of him that is sappily happy about that fact.

 

**4\. Hoodie, While Sick**

Chris shows up to set one Friday pale-faced and exhausted and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s finally succumbed to the cold that wiped out half the crew a week earlier. Privately Zach doesn’t think he’s going to make it through his scenes that day but he doesn’t say as much aloud, choosing instead to go with, “I’m surprised the makeup girls didn’t have a coronary when you showed up looking like death this morning.”

Chris manages a weak smile, which Zach is going to count as a win. “Believe me, they almost did. I think my face is more foundation than skin at this point. Every time I have to sneeze I’m afraid a puff of makeup is going to fly off my face.”

Zach nods in mock-seriousness. “An unfortunate side-effect of being a walking biohazardous nightmare,” he says, just as they get the call that J.J. is ready to start filming and they’re needed on the main soundstage immediately.

Chris, to his credit, does manage to get through the entire day of filming, though by the end of it he’s really just standing in the background of a scene trying not collapse from exhaustion as J.J. works on shots of other people. Zach keeps one worried eye on him as much as he can, until J.J. calls an end to shooting for the day and Zach loses sight of Chris as he leaves the stage and he’s stuck talking to the director about the plans for Monday’s shoot. By the time he manages to get away from that train wreck of a conversation and get changed back into normal street clothes, Chris is nowhere to be found.

Zach has his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder, anxiously listening to it ring as he tries to call Chris, just as he rounds the corner to the parking lot and sees his friend fumbling in his pockets to get to his ringing phone. “Chris!” he calls out, hanging up his cell and jogging over. “Hey man, it was just me calling. Wanted to make sure you could get home alright.”

“M’fine,” Chris mutters. “Don’t need help. Just need to find my keys.”

Chris is absolutely not _fine_ , not in the slightest. He’s swaying unsteadily on his feet and his eyes have started to glaze over slightly; Zach’s pretty sure if he touched the man’s forehead right now he’d be radiating heat. “Well humor me then,” he says, leaning down to scoop up Chris’s keys that he obviously dropped earlier and pocketing them before the other man can say anything. “Let me mother-hen you for a while to soothe my own conscious.”

Chris blinks slowly, as if he’s having trouble processing Zach’s words through the fever-haze clouding his mind, before nodding once and letting Zach lead him over to his own car. “Take me to my place,” Chris says as he fumbles with the door handle before finally getting it open and climbing into the passenger’s side. “’m not staying at yours.”

Zach chuckles. Chris gets more than a little pathetic when he’s sick, but although he’ll never say as much aloud it’s also kind of adorable. “Of course,” Zach says soothingly. “We’ll go back to your place, I’ll pick up whatever food and medicine you need for the weekend, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Chris hums, a non-committal sound that Zach can’t quite interpret, but when he glances over at his friend he sees Chris more or less passed out with his head resting against the passenger window. Zach leaves him be for the drive back to Chris’s house, only gently waking him up once he’s parked in the driveway. He goes ahead to unlock the door, keeping one eye on Chris as he climbs out of the car and shuffles towards the house.

“Go get pajamas on and lie down, I’ll get whatever you need,” Zach says and Chris nods, continuing his pathetic little shuffle down the hall towards his bedroom.

Zach uses that time to check the kitchen and medicine cabinet to make sure Chris has everything he needs to survive the weekend, and when he finds a dismal collection of canned soups and expired cold medicine he isn’t actually all that surprised. Their work schedule over the past few weeks has been crazy and he’s barely had enough time to go food shopping himself, let alone even think about restocking his non-food essentials.

“Chris, I’m gonna run out and get some stuff for you, I’ll be back in a little bit,” he calls out, waiting until he hears the “Okay” from Chris in response before grabbing his keys and heading out.

He, perhaps, goes a little overboard in his shopping. He has at least half a dozen different medicines and all the ingredients necessary to cook his mom’s homemade chicken noodle soup for Chris. He figures that has to be healthier than buying more mass-produced canned soup for him to live off of. He tries to be as quiet as possible when he gets back to Chris’s place, which ends up being the right call when he peers into the living room and sees Chris passed out on the couch, the TV on low and a blanket thrown over his legs- and wearing a familiar-looking hoodie.

Zach knows he left that particular hoodie here after the last time they were drinking, when Chris stole his shoes the following morning. He was more than a little annoyed when he found his shoes missing, but for some reason the sight of Chris curled up in his sweatshirt makes him smile gently, makes him feel warm and content as if things are the way they’re supposed to be. He looks at Chris sleeping in his clothes and thinks that he wants to come home and see this every day.

He knows what that means but he refuses to put these feelings into specific words. He refuses to admit that this thing he feels for Chris goes beyond friendship, that sometime between when they met and when Chris started regularly stealing his clothes things became irreversibly changed. But he doesn’t let himself think about what that change means, can’t start thinking about it because he can’t be the one who messes their friendship up on a whim.

Zach moves into the kitchen to start working on the soup, leaving Chris sleeping on the couch in that slightly too-big hoodie, and if he thinks at all about this new revelation he doesn’t let himself think the word _love_.

 

**5\. Workout Clothes, At the Gym**

Zach, as a general principle, greatly dislikes actually working out at the gym. He has a small home-fitness center set up where he can run through basic exercises or set up a yoga mat, and it’s rare for him to get the urge to actually leave his house and go to the gym. So really, it isn’t any surprise that the only reason he left the house this day was because of Chris.

Chris, who called Zach at 6:00 this morning asking him to come down to the gym he goes to so they could work out together. Chris, who Zach hasn’t exactly been avoiding since the other man was sick but who he has avoided being alone with as much as possible. Chris, who begged and pleaded and just would not shut up until Zach, who still refused to actually work out with his friend, very begrudgingly agreed to pick Chris up at the gym and grab breakfast after his workout.

Zach knows this is a bad idea. There’s a reason he hasn’t let himself be alone with Chris, and it mostly boils down to the fact that he just doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid. Zach knows himself, knows how he works, and once he realizes that he has feelings for someone it doesn’t take him long to blurt something out that he almost always ends up regretting. He can’t do that with Chris, because for the first time in a long time he can honestly say that he’d rather keep their friendship than try for anything else and ruin things between them.

So here he is, parked outside Chris’s gym and waiting for him to show up so they can grab breakfast, so he can spend the morning laughing and acting and pretending like nothing has changed when inside he’s not sure how he’s going to stop himself from saying, or doing, something stupid.

And then Chris actually shows up and Zach knows he’s doomed because Pine, for some unknown reason, hasn’t bothered to change after his workout. He’s still glistening slightly with sweat, grinning widely and obviously hyped up on workout endorphins- and wearing what appears to be Zach’s clothes, yet again.

“Hey, sorry I know I’m still pretty gross but can you believe I forgot to bring a change of clothes with me?” Chris says as he slides into the passenger’s seat. “And I was thinking, what’s the point of showering at the gym when I’m just gonna have to put these back on after, right? So would you mind swinging by my place for a few minutes so I can get washed up before we head out?”

“Those are my clothes,” Zach says dumbly, because somewhere between seeing that Chris is still sweaty and flushed from his workout and the realization that _those are his clothes_ his mind appears to have gone offline.

Chris laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry man. I borrowed them from set last week, remember? Must have put them on by mistake this morning, and I didn’t notice until I got to the gym.”

Zach should be making some snarky comment, some derisive insult about Chris’s intelligence because this is at least the fifth time he’s worn Zach’s clothes “by mistake” and seriously, who does that? But his brain is still one step behind his body, and by the time he realizes that he’s reaching for Chris it’s too late to really stop.

He grabs Chris, one hand fisted in his own stupid tank top that the other man is wearing and one wrapped around the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s fierce and hungry, Zach fighting briefly for dominance before Chris relents, submitting so easily to him and letting Zach control everything about the kiss. It’s wet and messy and over too quick, because when Zach realizes what he’s doing he lets go immediately and leans back, needing to put space between them because this is it, he’s gone too far and-

Chris is laughing again.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to do that,” he says, sounding entirely too smug.

“What?” is Zach’s brilliant response.

“I’m pretty sure I realized that you had a thing for me before you even did,” Chris says with a grin. “I figured it out the moment I saw how you looked at me wearing that t-shirt on set.”

“Shut the fuck up, there’s no way you knew then,” Zach says.

Chris laughs and settles back down into his seat. “Whatever man. I’m just happy you finally grew a pair and did something.”

“Yeah? And why didn’t you-?”

Zach’s question is cut off by a car honking behind them. Startled, he quickly throws his car into gear and pulls out into traffic, ignoring Chris who’s still snickering and clearly making no effort to contain his amusement.

“Why didn’t you do something first?” Zach asks as he drives back towards Chris’s place.

“Didn’t want to freak you out,” Chris says with a shrug. “But, since you aren’t freaking out now…” He places his hand on Zach’s thigh, slowly sliding up his leg. “We don’t really have to leave my house for breakfast.”

Zach coughs, tries not to fidget too much although everything about Chris and what he’s doing is a monumental distraction at the moment. “Yeah? Think we can find something to eat at your place?”

“Oh, I think we’ll find _something_ ,” Chris says, his voice nearly a purr, and Zach steps on the accelerator.

Chris pulls back, laughing again, and Zach is, quite possibly, going to murder him.

Or, more likely, take his revenge out in a more productive way.

 

**+1. Sweatpants, the Morning After**

Chris wakes up and, for once, Zach isn’t still sleeping next to him. He frowns and blinks blearily, cursing when he sees that it’s not even 8AM. That’s not too early under normal circumstances but after waking up early the day before to put his “seduce Zachary Quinto” plan into action, and after the rather exhausting activities that took place after, he was hoping to sleep in a little bit. But now that he’s awake he’s curious as to where Zach disappeared to, so he climbs out of bed, throws on a pair of boxers, and wanders out of the bedroom.

The smell of coffee alerts him to Zach’s presence and he makes his way towards the kitchen, stopping in doorway to take in the sight of a shirtless Zach rifling through his friend, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Sweatpants that Chris recognizes as being _his_ , and he’s not going to be able to mock Zach about his clothes fetish because in this moment he thinks he understands it a little. There’s just something about seeing Zach in his clothes that feels right, that warms his heart, that-

“You gonna keep staring all morning, or are you gonna help me with breakfast?” Zach asks, startling Chris from his thoughts.

“What, I can’t admire that fine ass of yours?” Chris jokes, but he does finally move into the kitchen, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee that Zach passes him.

“I think you admired it enough yesterday, don’t you?”

Chris laughs. “As if you didn’t _admire_ mine just as much. And don’t think I haven’t noticed what sweatpants you’re wearing.”

“It seemed fitting,” Zach says as he continues to pull food out from the fridge. “I thought about stealing a shirt and borrowing your shoes to make a breakfast run…”

“Oh, fuck you,” Chris says, but he’s still laughing. “You couldn’t hope to pull off my clothes as well as I do.”

“I wouldn’t want to pull off the rags you wear,” Zach says and Chris punches him in the arm, but they’re both grinning and it’s almost just like old times- except for the ache in his ass in the promise of more to come later.

“Though actually I did try finding some of my own clothes to wear, since you seem to own so many,” Zach continues casually as he starts cracking open eggs. “More specifically, _my_ sweatpants that you still haven’t returned.”

“That’s because I’m not sure where they ended up,” Chris admits. He knows he washed them, but somewhere between the dryer and his dresser they disappeared and he hasn’t seen them since. He’s a little upset about that because he likes wearing Zach’s clothes, likes how they always still smell a little bit like him and how comfortable they are, and how Zach gets that possessive look in his eyes whenever he sees Chris in them.

“Then it looks like I’ll be keeping these,” Zach says. “As payment for the ones you stole.”

“Oh sure, as ‘payment’. Not because of your weird clothes fetish you have going on,” Chris teases.

“My weird fetish? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been staring at me this morning, Pine,” Zach shoots back and yeah, Chris knows he can’t really deny that one. Just like he knows Zach is actually going to keep those sweatpants, just like he threatened.

Chris would be more annoyed if he didn’t know that those same sweatpants were going to end up on the floor of his bedroom in about an hour anyway, no matter who was wearing them.


End file.
